


it's tough to stay objective, baby

by sandpapersnowman



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Robot/Human Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2017-01-19
Packaged: 2018-09-11 22:24:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9037202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sandpapersnowman/pseuds/sandpapersnowman
Summary: It's an unexpected but surprisingly kind offer; the trip is going to take longer than they thought, and K-2 can tell Cassian is getting antsy.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> title is from the wombats' [Emoticons](http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/wombats/emoticons.html) (its hardly related besides me liking that line in the context of this fic but u know w/e)
> 
> I just wanted to get this up as the First™ person to put up k2/cassian smut :')
> 
> edit: second chapter is up as of 1/19/17! took way longer than expected because of life stuff but AY

"There's a very high chance you think this is a bad idea," K-2 tells him. "And almost no chance you aren't considering it anyway."

Cassian almost thinks he sounds soothing. He laughs.

"K-2? Do you ever get tired of being right?"

K-2's freezing hand moves higher, meeting the heat between his legs and pressing.

"No," he says honestly. "I don't."

Cassian grits his teeth to keep from hissing through them. He'd like to. The idea of being able to get off with someone else on this obnoxiously long trip is extremely tempting. It's apparently also an option, because apparently _someone_ thought it'd be a good idea to log his mannerisms and facial expressions that give away when he's about to go sneak off to the bathroom to wank. Asshole.

"If you don't want to, I'll stop touching you," K-2 says. The droid doesn't have any real range of tone but Cassian can still _hear_ the smugness in it, as present in the cockpit as his fingers curled around his cock in his pants; 'if there was a chance you weren't up for this, I would have taken my hand back by now'.

"Fuck," he mutters under his breath, then, "fine, for the love of -- _fine_."


	2. Chapter 2

If K-2's had experience with this before, he hasn't heard about it, but he doesn't seem to have any issue with Cassian's belt or briefs, or being gentle enough pulling him out of his pants that Cassian has to hold his breath because the delicate touches almost tickle.

He shuts his eyes, but moments later, K-2 is touching his face.

"Could you please...?"

Cassian's confused, because his hand is just hovering in front of him, angled like he wants him to...

...Open his mouth. Oh.

He flushes worse than he’s already been. How would K2 even _know_ he does that? Does he just assume he should? Does he know _why_? Shit.

"I don't have to, if you'd prefer something else."

Again, that tone. He'd punch him for it if K-2 didn't have the advantage here.

He shakes his head briefly before he opens his mouth and leans forward. He imagines K-2 probably would have been fine moving his fingers forward the extra couple inches (and _what a thought_ that is, the idea of K-2 pressing his fingers past his lips and onto his tongue), but does it anyway.

Slicking up metal fingers with his mouth is much different than his own; for one, the angle -- you can never quite comfortably get your hand up in a way that feels like someone else is doing it unless you put your arm in an uncomfortable enough position to break the illusion. Second, K-2's fingers are so much longer and slimmer than his -- he almost gags each time K-2 pushes forward just a bit, just enough to let Cassian feel like he's being a participant, not used, because his cold fingertips are further than he's ever gotten his and could _still_ go further.

(He entertains that thought for a moment and his dick twitches up against his stomach; if this somehow becomes a regular enough thing, maybe he'll ask K-2 to do that for him. Take his time with his long fingers in his mouth, shove them halfway down his throat while he touches himself, something like that. He’ll work out the kinks -- _ha_ \-- later)

K-2 pulls his fingers out, and Cassian's been so caught up in his thoughts that he thinks maybe K-2's read his mind and is about to berate him for his fantasy.

Instead, he carefully slips his fingers between his legs, careful not to touch much of his pants or underwear, and _yes_ , that's certainly a droid's spit-wet finger pushing at his asshole.

" _K,_ " he grunts, but when his hips arch up away from the metal, his fingers only follow him up.

"Is this not what you do?" he asks. "You come back to the cockpit with wet fingers and a stiff walk," he states. "I assumed."

Cassian laughs again despite himself. He's right, of course.

"You sure you're gonna be careful?"

He's not _really_ worried. He's mostly just still processing that the rebellion's stolen, reprogrammed Imperial droid that they use for strategy analysis is about to finger him, probably until he cums.

"I'm sure," K-2 assures him, and then slips his finger in up to it's first joint. It's barely anything, and thin, and hardly more than an added pressure, but Cassian just barely jerks down into the feeling anyway.

"Is that alright?" K-2 asks.

Cassian nods. He props one leg up on the console, the one further from K-2. Ideally, he’d like to straddle him, ride his fingers and hold onto him to keep himself steady when he cums, but if nothing else, he’s angled closer. K-2’s fingers will be able to get deeper. That’s good enough for now.

"You're fine, you..." He takes a shaky breath. How does he politely ask for 'more, fuck, do your worst'? "Go ahead," he sighs.

K-2 seems to get the gist of what he wants (of course he does, he figured out all of this, didn't he?) and pushes his finger further into him, and Cassian could _swear_ he's purposely pressing a little too hard.

His hips jerk again and it's such a pleasant discomfort, moving the wrong way just a little. He's going to have to thank K-2 for this later, he hasn't been touched by someone else in so long, and it's been even longer since he got _this_. 

"More," he whispers. His eyes are shut tight, focused solely on the pressure in him.

K-2 pulls his finger back so he can start pushing in with another. Cassian could kiss him for it. He thinks about it, pressing his face to the cold metal of K-2’s and mouthing at it, even just to do something with his mouth besides pant and curse.

"Would you mind if I --"

"-- Go ahead," K-2 says, already aware of what he’s going to ask.

His fingers curl around the base of his dick before K-2 can start telling him about the probability he was going to ask to jerk off. K-2's fingers pull out enough to push back in, then again. He finds a slow pace, one that’s nowhere near enough but one that’s certainly turning his blood hot under his skin and making him shake.

K-2 starts making sure to press over his prostate when he drags his fingers back almost-out; some part of him is self-conscious that K-2 is more than likely cataloguing the noises he’s making every time, but then his fingertip rubs over it again and he doesn’t care.

“Aren’t you going to move your hand?” K-2 asks.

Cassian hasn’t even thought about it. He’s just been gripping himself, like he’s about to start stroking himself but hasn’t yet.

“Put another one in?” he asks instead.

“Of course.”

His third finger isn’t as slick as the first two had been, but the discomfort bordering on pain is unbearably good. Feeling himself stretch to accommodate his fingers is such a unique feeling, one he’s not _unfamiliar_ with, but that he hasn’t been so _affected by_ in a while.

He doesn’t know what to do with his other hand, so he hooks it around the back of K-2’s neck to pull him closer. The odd, leaned-over distance between he and Cassian was probably the last bit of professionalism in this, but pulling him closer makes him feel less like he’s being observed.

He still is, which is especially obvious when K-2’s eyes flicker just a bit watching him sink down in his chair, spread his legs a little more so K-2 can get a little deeper, but at this point, he really doesn’t care.

All three fingers in him are moving in him now, and Cassian starts carefully pushing up into his fist with a groan. It finally gets friction over his cock, and it gets that extra bit of force from K-2’s fingers when his hips come back down. It’s _good_.

“Harder?” he grits through his teeth.

“Faster, as well?” K-2 asks, near-toneless as always, even asking a question like that.

“ _Yes_.”

K-2 does, and Cassian feels like he’s going to pass out before he cums.

“Don’t stop,” he groans. It’s breathy and awful, and he’s glad K-2 isn’t like any other humanoid partner he’s had, or he might never hear the end of it. He sounds as desperate as he looks, as desperate as he _feels_.

He’s barely moving his hand or his hips at this point, all of the motion between them from K-2 shoving his fingers in and shoving half of Cassian’s body with them.

“ _Fuck_ , d-don’t stop,” Cassian moans again. 

“I wasn’t going to,” K-2 says, almost annoyed, like he doesn’t understand why Cassian is telling him not to. Hell, maybe he doesn’t, and genuinely thinks Cassian is really asking him to keep going.

He laughs, turns his head into the angle between K-2’s head and his shoulders and lets it melt into something breathy again.

He warns K-2, something stuttered as quickly as possible into his neck before it happens, and then he’s jerking down against K-2’s fingers, up into his hand, and cumming against his stomach hard enough he feels like gravity is shifting with his heartbeat.

He’s limp against K-2, vision still feeling fuzzy and unfocused and his whole body generally feeling like a snapped rubber band, but he still manages another quiet laugh.

He takes a couple more seconds to right himself, gives K-2 time to carefully pull his fingers out, slow enough not to hurt him, and he sits back against his seat exhausted and _spent_. He could sink into the chair right now, just pour between the molecules and stay there forever.

He swallows.

“Thank you.”

He doesn’t know what to say besides that, really; what do you tell your friend who just clinically gave you what might have been the best orgasm of your life besides ‘thanks’?

K-2 wipes his fingers off on Cassian’s pants, rudely, but Cassian will have to scold him for that later, when he can say more than a few words at a time. _If_ he ever regains the ability to think past ‘holy fuck, that was good’ again, of course.

"You really should keep proper lubricant on the ship if you're going to keep doing this, Captain."

Cassian snorts. Not having a pleasantly-sore ass in the future is the last thing on his mind at the moment. And ‘if you’re going to keep doing this’? He doesn’t remember anyone but K-2 starting this, but he’s not going to say anything if this might happen again in the future.

"Why don't _you_ keep it on you, buddy?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woo!! i hope yall enjoyed this fic as much as i enjoyed writing it :') you can find me on tumblr [here](http://sandpapersnowman.tumblr.com)


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